Silver Tears(33)

Alice looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Cut the crap, Faye. Why exactly are you here?”

She folded her arms and waited for an answer. Faye looked at her appreciatively. Alice really was as smart as she had hoped.

She took a deep breath. “Someone is trying to take Revenge away from me. I’m on the verge of losing everything I’ve built.”

“Surely you’ve still got capital?” Alice said with a frown. “Since the sale?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine financially. More than. But that’s not the point. Revenge is me—and Revenge is Chris too.”

Alice nodded. She sipped her wine and looked down toward the water. The tranquility was disturbed only by the call of a bird in a small copse of trees.

Faye let her words sink in. After a while, Alice turned back to her.

“Who’s buying up the shares?”

“I didn’t know at first. It was hidden in a tangle of buyers from Sweden and abroad. But eventually we managed to see through it all and find the person behind it.”

“Henrik,” said Alice.

Faye looked at her in surprise.

“Did you know?”

“No, no,” said Alice, waving a hand. “If I had, then I would have warned you. But I’m not surprised. I don’t think you realize how much he hates you. For a while, I thought about getting in touch to let you know how pissed off Henrik was, but you…you had other stuff on your plate. Besides, I couldn’t see him acting on it. Henrik talks a big game, always has.”



Faye gazed out of the window where the setting sun cast a golden glow over the water. The spectacular view was lost on her; she was too busy trying to decide how much she should reveal. In the end she decided to put all her cards on the table bar one. Alice didn’t know that Julienne was alive. And it had to stay that way.

She poured more wine for herself and for Alice.

“He’s very close to succeeding. I wasn’t on my guard. At first I was…wrapped up in grief and anger. Then I let myself relax. Believed it was over.”

Alice nodded and was silent for a moment. Then she raised her glass in a toast.

“I assume you’re looking for a partner in crime. It would be fucking amazing to upset that arrogant bastard’s plans.”

Faye laughed and they clinked glasses merrily. Perhaps there was still some hope for the sisterhood, despite the betrayal of the investors.



* * *



—

Alice had invited her to sleep over, but Faye wanted to get back to the apartment and brainstorm ideas with Kerstin. However, when the taxi headed past Jungfrugatan she asked the driver to pull over. This was where Irene Ahrnell lived. Faye had been around to her place for a magnificent dinner after the Revenge launch and she recognized the building.

For a moment, Faye hesitated. She pictured the beautiful woman in her mind’s eye. Always composed. Always dignified. How could she? Then she paid the driver and got out.

Faye pressed Irene’s buzzer at the main door.

It rang for a long time and she thought perhaps Irene wasn’t at home. She checked her watch: almost ten thirty. Perhaps it was too late to be dropping in on her. She was debating whether to press the buzzer again when quick footsteps behind her made her turn around. It was only a jogger in colorful running tights, but Faye’s heart was racing. Since Jack’s escape, she had tried to avoid being alone in the street at night, but stopping at Irene’s had been an impulsive act. All at once, every small movement at the corner of her eye seemed threatening. She pressed the buzzer hard again. This time Irene answered.



“Hi, it’s Faye. I know you probably don’t want to talk to me…but can I come up?”

Faye held her breath. Kerstin had warned her not to have this discussion with Irene before they had dealt with the more pressing issues. But for Faye, speaking to Irene was pressing. Granted, her holding had already been sold, but she liked Irene. Trusted her. She couldn’t understand how this had happened. And she needed to understand. Perhaps it was also the key to what was happening, even if Kerstin didn’t think so.

“Irene?” said Faye. “Please?”

The door whirred, and, throwing a final glance over her shoulder, Faye hurried inside.

The elevator was old, cramped, and infinitely slow. When it reached the third floor and she drew aside the rattling black grille she saw Irene waiting for her at the door. She was wearing a gray lounge set, had no makeup on, and had a terry-cloth headband holding back her short hair. The shine on her face gave away that she had been in the middle of her skin-care ritual before bed.

“Come in,” Irene said in a low voice.

It was clear from her closed face that she didn’t want to talk to Faye, but she had let her in at any rate.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Not really,” said Faye with a grimace.

“I don’t blame you.”

Irene went into the kitchen, got out two wineglasses, and opened a bottle of Chablis from the fridge. Faye followed her into the spacious living room where they’d had their aperitifs before that dinner. Lofty ceiling, stucco.

They sat down on a sofa covered in a large Josef Frank print. Faye wondered how to begin, but Irene solved that problem for her.



“I…I was meaning to get in touch with you. I realize how this must look. And believe me, I haven’t slept for almost a week. But…”